World's Greatest Salesperson - Red Brick Revolution.m4v

let the RED BRICK REVOLUTION BEGIN

Through the looking glass. Part 1

If you ever come to Hong Kong, one of the best things you can do is leave. I don’t mean to sound like I hate Hong Kong, far from it, I love it here. What I mean to say is that you should take a trip to Macau, a small SAR (special administrative region) a short hop, skip and a 1 hour jump from Hong Kong via boat.

Macau has to be one of the strangest places I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. In order to understand what you experience you have to imagine a place a lot like Alice's Wonderland. Macau is half Chinese, half Portuguese (European) and half Las Vegas. I know that makes it over 50% bigger than is physically possible, but then the Chinese have a way of making more of an available space then anyone else. The walled city of Kowloon was one example of that. Macau is made of an additional 50% reclaimed land which lays way for the larger then Las Vegas gambling strip.

When you arrive, however, I recommend you head for the tourist area and not the bright lights of the Macau strip. Now, most people would advise that you stay away from tourist destinations if you want to experience the real country, however, this is defiantly not the case with Macau. Macau present two options, tourist destination or gambling heaven; the Chinese locals are only there to gamble, so to escape the hustle and bustle I recommend you stay close to the tourist areas. Embrace the sites and standard routes and experience China through the looking glass. Anything else is honestly just a gamble.

On your way through the city you will travel through what appears to be a bustling American cityscape with high rise buildings and hotels. Suddenly and without warning, however, you'll have become lost in a maze of cobbled side roads and small European flats. Around every corner of this place, you'll come across something new, exciting and completely awe-inspiring; from the view at the fort to the famous market square and the wall of the St Paul’s cathedral. Never has so much fuss been made over one wall, except of course that wailing one. Just make sure you watch your step, the locals seem to love mopeds more then they love gambling, and seeing as this is the only place in China where it is legal to gamble, that makes for a hell of a lot of mopeds.

If you do decide to place a bet, however, I would recommend you visit the Macau strip over the “odd bod” Casino’s placed around the city. An entire gambling heaven awaits, built on reclaimed sand, larger then Las Vegas. However there was just so much to do I never made it this far, the experience is truly yours to embrace. I will, however, be going back to Macau, for the world’s tallest bungee (Macau Tower) the world’s largest indoor river (The Venetian Macau) and the world’s most “out of this world” tourist destination.

In all honestly I recommend at least a visit to Macau, whether you choose to follow the white rabbit of the gambling habit, or get lost with the Cheshire cat among the maze of cobbled streets. Macau is an experience not to be missed.

Sharing is caring, in Hong Kong

I recently went for a meal over in Shek O on the south side of Hong Kong Island and I’ve discovered something about the eating habits of Hong Kong that is completely foreign.

In England you order from a set menu, each to his own, and although you may order a side of onion rings or possibly even a salad to share, if you’re that way inclined, the vast majority of people are happy with their own choice. Even when ordering foreign food from a take away, in England, you’re likely to have your own dish. This is the way of the English.

The thing about moving to a foreign country, however, is that you’re thrust into embracing foreign habits and customs. Most of these are not too taxing, for example; everyone sweats in Hong Kong in the summer “apparently” and it’s just accepted, no one ever wears a tie to work, beer is considered liquid gold with a price tag to match and the business card is the Hong Kong hand shake. The strangest of these customs, however, comes at meal time.

Instead of ordering a set meal each, everyone orders a dish from the menu, and it’s shared between the table. Just think about how vicious it would get if you had to share your meal with several people in England. At Uni if anyone came close to steeling your chips they’d risk losing a finger. I’m guessing this is why the Chinese invented chopsticks, blunted instruments that make it impossible to take too much food at once. This technically prevents selfishness and injury, unless of course you take a chopstick in the eye.

After a few months of deliberation, however, I have come to love the concept of a shared meal. You can pick and choose, benefit from a variety of flavors and usually enjoy more food then from a set meal. I don’t see the concept taking off in England anytime soon though so I think I’ll stay out here a little longer.

In Hong Kong sharing really is caring. If only the Chinese could invent something to remove the side effects of eating spicy foods.

Once upon a time at the 7's

If you know Hong Kong, or if you know Rugby, then you've heard of the Hong Kong 7's. A three day weekend, full of drinking, socializing and a boat load of rugby.

I arrived at the stadium after two days of some spectacular rugby. It was Sunday morning and I was headed straight to “South Stand”, dressed head to toe as Ronald McDonald, ready for a day’s drunken madness.

After a slightly jaded couple of hours, the face paint had started to burn into my skin, I’d kicked over a Litre of Alcohol, eaten my weight in beef pies and nature was calling. It had been my goal to get on the big screen, live in-front of the crowd and as yet we, the McDonalds, had not been noticed.

On the way to the toilet, however, my luck changed and I managed to get my moment of fame with 15 seconds of crazy dancing on the big screen. Full of glee over my recent TV appearance, I had decided to repeat the dance whilst traveling back to my seat, just in case the “paps” were still rolling. I began with a hop, a skip, a shuffle and a shake; I was truly in my element. I had no idea, however, that this would all result in a torn ligament and 4 hours in A n E.

Before I new it I was hopping home hoping that after a few hours kip some RICE (rest, ice, compress and elevation) and some pain killers, I’d make it to Wan Chi for the after game party. It was not to be, however, after a few hours’ kip. I tried standing and almost collapsed in pain. If was off to hospital for this 7’s fan.

The first thing I can say is thank God I went home first and got changed. The mere act of sitting in A n E as a slightly hung over Ronald McDonald, in a wheelchair with a potentially broken foot and a face full of paint, would most likely ruin the dreams of any small child not to mention end in a potential law suit from McDonalds themselves for Brand misrepresentation. I had other things to worry about.

The first thing you have to realize about the hospitals, like so many other things in Hong Kong, is that you pay upfront and you keep hold of the receipt. If there is any place that could feel more like a Monty Python sketch it’s a Hong Kong hospital. I half expected John Clees to pop out from behind the curtain to take my order.

The next thing you will notice is that the locals are apparently there to watch the TV rather then as a result of any illness. It’s my opinion that if you can walk, and your not in a sling or have blood coming from somewhere, that you shouldn’t go to A n E. In England we are deliberately told not to go to hospital if we have flu like symptoms. It’s the opposite in HK, with patients told to report if there have any signs of a cold. There must have been at least 10 people go through before me, only to return within a minute with a perplexed look on there face.

So there I am, sitting in a queue of drunken 7's victims, with receipt in hand waiting to be seen. It really is a unique experience. It’s a shame that I was told they charge extra if you use a wheel chair, I would have hopped if I had known. The best description I can give of the whole experience is that of a 5 star Hotel. Admittedly all the services are superb, and you know you're in good hands, but ultimately watch out for all the additional extras they may add to the bill and NEVER ever drink from the mini bar in your room.

All in all I’ve lost my south stand virginity in a way I will never forget. There is always more to the Hong Kong 7’s than the rugby.

Hedge your bets

I recently attended two events that can only be described as ultimately different, however, at the same time oddly similar. The events in question both involve a large mass of people forcing drinks down themselves to lubricate their systems, talking to complete strangers, and a genuinly good time had by all.

I regularly attend the famous Happy Valley Races on a Wednesday night, amid the usual social crowd, beer tents and first time winners. I myself was once a virgin racer and I have tasted begginers luck, winning a whole $20, so I can see the appeal. On a similar Wednsday night however, I attended a bankers dating evening, purely for networking purposes of course, despite there being no real appeal for the occasion, I noticed some odd similarities.

At both occasions you are presented with a large array of contestants to choose from. There are the tipped favourites, the experienced oldtimers, the mid ranged runners and of course the last place outsiders. At both occasions you must also ask yourself the same basic questions; Which contestent is a likely winner, who should I bet on, what are my odds of success, which has the best legs and how well they are likely to ride.

At either occasion I would offer the folowing advice. Start by getting the cheat sheet, survey the prospects and if possible get the low down from a regular on each contestant. There are probably a few hidden flaws, always watch out for a wooden leg, and never approach a guaranteed winner, your return is way too small. My advice would be to hedge your bets, play the field and more importantly then not, go with whatever name sounds the best.

Giving up giving up, for lent

Lent is upon us once more and the age old question that passes everyone’s lips, what to give up this year. Should I stop eating chocolate for a month, only to eat a month’s supply of Easter eggs in April, or should I stop driving to save on my carbon footprint, only to fail within 5 minuets of walking in the heat of Hong Kong, sweating buckets and smelling of Graham Street fish market.

I propose a different solution, this year I am not going to give up anything. I am going to take up something. In essence I am going to give up giving up, which is ultimately the flaw in my plan. To stop giving up, I need to give up giving up. And hence I have already failed, but I’m willing to over look this. I’ve always thought the idea of "giving up" to be a very depressing prospect anyway and I’ve not been religious since 2000 so I really shouldn't care about the tradition.So why not flip it on it's head, I should take up not giving up.

Taking up something installs a more positive and free thinking attitude. It allows for a much wider range of possibilities. When you decide to give up something you have to already be doing it, and in essence, there are only a finite number of things that you are currently doing. On the other hand there is ultimately an infinite number of things that you are not doing, that you could take up.

Why not try it this year, look for something new and different that you can do for a month, or even turn your current thoughts on giving up, into thoughts of taking up. If you’re giving up smoking, you’re taking up breathing cleaner air. If you’re giving up sex you’re taking up celibacy. If you’re giving up chocolate, which I am sure everyone woman on earth will try at least once, then you’re taking up a healthier option.

This practice should leave a sense of achievement that’s easier to follow and accomplish than trying to give up something. Try giving up smoking for example, your likely to fail. Then try taking up longer life, cleaner air, nice smelling cloths and the extra pocket money. Thinking this way about your situation is sure to have a better outcome.

As for me, I am simply giving up giving up, and that’s a good enough start.

Oh, Suits you sir!

There comes a time in every mans life when he has to pick his first suit. It used to be that this was the making of a man; the suit would command, inspire and flaunt ambition to those in lesser attire. Then came the power tie, something Wall Street believed would inspire greatness in the eyes of the beholder. Feminists would critique, however, that the tie itself is just a representation of the phallic male symbol of power and that its presence alone was unnecessary and that any addition would be Freudian. Middle and lower, entry level, management even caught on to the trend and when the piano tie was even considered to be "a power tie" the fad was truly over.

Nowadays however the number of additions, colours, styles and fabrics can literally drive a man insane. As it is these days a mans first suit is no longer bought for his first job ( and by first job I don't mean the paper round as a teenager, that would be silly, although the tips would have probably been a little better). As childhood gets ever shorter these days its more like a boys first suit, then a mans.

My first suit was bought from ASDA "George" for my senior school, 6th form or college, depending on where in the UK you come from. It was also either year 11, 9, lower 5th or G7 depending on nothing at all and probably made up by the school you attended. I never really understood the difference or similarity between the ever complicated English schools system. Anyway.....

Today's suit can consist of trousers, jacket, waistcoat, tie, bow tie, cufflinks, shirt, pinstripe shirt, pinstripe trousers, pinstripe suit, pinstripe pinstripe pinstripe, socks (any colour as long as they are brightly coloured and in no way match anything else you have on) and of course shoes (which also don't need to match the colour of your suit). Women think they have it bad. Admittedly we only ever have to make this choice once, but then there comes the never ending array of ties that we apparently need. If there is one thing I loved about my first Suit it was that the tie was bought by the school and was identical to everyone else’s. Perhaps this would eliminate any phallic competition between men that ties allow; big knot, small knot, tight knot, long fat bit, short thin bit, visa verse, tucked in, and many more.

The whole process has become a complete farce, I like to think of myself as creative, but even with all these options you’re still just in a suit, like everyone else. Lets be honest, who is ever actually comfortable in one of these. In meetings we take the jackets of because its impossible to write anything with them on, in the summer we don't even wear ties and you're always going to get the staff fool wearing all pinstripes with a stripy tie!

Why not just wear nice smart trouser, like chinos or smart jeans, and a collared shirt. Most creative agencies do. It’s comfortable, smart and no way near so much of a bother. Don't get me wrong, I loved my first suit, and I love my University Tie, it made me feel part of something but when it comes to actually doing work, being creative and comfortable enough to allow me to perform at work, I'd rather not wear a suit.

When everyone and anyone can wear a suit, and the meaningfulness of wearing one is thus lost, why wear one at all. I say not wearing a suit suits me perfectly.